


Cry.

by avio



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Feels, Gen, all of them - Freeform, drabble shit lalala that is all i ever write, have fun bbies, motherly relationship shit, sads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2012-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-03 02:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avio/pseuds/avio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Roxy Lalonde and you miss your mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cry.

**Author's Note:**

> have some Sadstuck. Roxy just gives me all the feels okay. also this is DirkRoxy if you squint. really, really, really hard. like seriously the shit's microscopic.

Your name is Roxy Lalonde and you miss your mother.

You miss her so much, you’ve read her books from front to back countless times. You’ve made your way into her room, dug through her things, curled up in her blankets (so maybe you can pretend she’s still there and still alive) and going through her clothes.

You miss her so much, you became well-acquainted with her liquor cabinet. You’ve become pretty damned good friends, to be honest, and that booze is so good to you, making you forget it (but sometimes it’s so cruel, making you _remember_ which is so fucking painful you cry and you cry and you cry), making you feel warm and happy.

You try to distract yourself with other things. Your many cats, your ~ATH programs, your friends. You love talking to your friends. They can sometimes help (even though Janey doesn’t believe you she never believes you and it _hurts_ you’re supposed to be best friends why doesn’t she believe you??) and you can be happy meddling in their lives, helping them with the twisted triangle of love they’ve got themselves in.

Sometimes you just want her back, but you know you can’t have her, you can’t, so you find yourself curled up in her blankets again, and you cry, and you cry, and you cry.

Dirk understands. You talk about it with him now and then, and he listens, and you know he understands. He doesn’t even need to tell you; you just _know_.

...You miss your mother. Her name was Rose Lalonde, and it’s such a pretty name, you think you might name your daughter after her (you know you have one, you know she’s there, you’ve /seen/ her in your dreams. It sounds funny, but it’s true). If you live that long.

The alcohol is calling your name again, and you smile, and smile, and smile, careful not to spill any on your mother’s sheets. You would never want to do that; that would mean having to wash them and ohgod no you don’t want to wash them, because what if the scent comes out? What if the _familiarity_ of your passed mother just _fades away_? No, no, no, you refuse to wash them ever (forget that by now it must have soaked your own alcohol scent, by now it must be faded away and replaced with your own--), ever, ever.

Your cute little alien friend told you that you’ll get to see her again in the game.

You tremble at the thought, even though you _really_ don’t want to play it, _really_  don’t want to please Her Royal Fucking Condescension, really don’t want to dance right into her carping trap. But, god, you fucking _tremble_ at the thought to see her again, to be in her mysterious presence again, and you almost start crying again (Dirk is ironically gentlemanly enough to distract you, however, probably somehow sensing how you felt about it. You understand. It’s probably the same for him.) as you typo your way through the conversation.

You’ll get to see her again. And your daughter. You feel giddy at the thought.

You think about how the Batterwitch may try to fuck things up. The thought makes you angry. Really, really angry, and you need another drink. You’re too fucking sober to think about shit like that (in fact, that’s probably _why_ you’re thinking about shit like that and you _need a drink_.).

So you do.

This time, the alcohol reminds you instead of letting you forget.

You’re crying again.

You miss your mother.


End file.
